Castle Fanfic - 47 Seconds, or Skipping past the angst
by CharacterDriven
Summary: A lot of wonderful, deep, poetic stuff has been written about this angst-filled episode. I've only seen 47 seconds twice simply because it hurts too much to watch... it's not fun for me. So, since I cannot possibly measure up to others' takes on one of the most soul-crushing moments in TV history, I'm taking a slightly different path.


**Castle Fanfic – 47 Seconds  
(I have made minor edits. No need to re-read unless you're the guest reviewer who thinks Stana's eylashes are her own)**

When Beckett emerged from the interrogation room, she was feeling reasonably pleased with how the whole interview had panned out. That all dropped away when she stepped out to find Castle blocking her way, his face white with rage.

"Castle?"

"You remember _everything_?"

"You were listening?"

"Hell, yes, I was listening. I'm **_*always*_** listening! But there are three little words I guess you're never gonna say. I've listened too goodamn long."

He went to her desk and slammed a cup of coffee down. With its force, the cup collapsed in on itself, and hot liquid flooded her desktop - running through papers, pooling around the feet of her elephant and other knick-knacks.

The coffee wasn't hot enough to burn his hand, but he shook it out in irritation with a not-quite-silent "Fuck!" and grabbed her trash can, trying to squeegee the liquid off her desk into the bin.

She ignored the mess on her desk. "Castle. Rick. Are you all right?" The entire bullpen had come to a stop; everyone was staring at them. Esposito and Ryan, who usually tried to stay out of Mom and Dad's way when they were fighting, started to edge in closer. Castle towered over Beckett, seething, and she looked small and pale. He snarled, "All right? No. I am not all right. I will never be all right. I will never be enough for you and the least you could have done was have the grace to tell me."

Beckett was speechless a moment, then countered, "But I just asked you out on a date this morning!"

Esposito touched Castle's arm. "Hey, man..."

Castle shook Esposito off. "You know what? You lied to me. I'm done. I made this mess..." he gestured to her sodden workstation, "but you've made plenty, Kate. So you get to clean this one up."

He slammed the trash bin onto her desk. Her mother's porcelain elephants went crashing to the floor, unheeded. He went for the elevator, the entire bullpen gawping at them, hit (and I do mean hit) the call button, and stood there shaking and humiliated as the goddamned elevator took its own sweet goddamn time. Beckett glanced down briefly at the smashed elephants, and the little rectangular mini-cassette. She knew what it was. She absolutely knew. And she didn't care. She ran after him. "Castle. _Rick!_ "

He scowled back at her and headed for the stairs. "Just grow up, Beckett. You're not a schoolgirl anymore. We're both too old for games like this."

She hurried after him, speaking only to him, somehow forgetting that everyone she worked with was listening in on a scene that really should have been private. "I know. I know. I'm so sorry, Rick. I do love you. I do. I should have told you. I should have told you years ago. I am such an asshole. I'm so sorry!"

Ryan cocked an eyebrow at Esposito. "Got that right." Ryan believed in true love. He found the whole will-they-won't-they routine a minor, but still concerning, obstacle to the Grand Scheme of things.

"Shuddup," Esposito snapped. They got busy trying to save everything on Beckett's desk. They'd noticed the cassette, too, and set about dusting it carefully for prints, but replaced it, lying in state, among the bits of shattered porcelain. "No fixin' that," Esposito murmured.

Ryan, ever the optimist, said, "You never know." They got a blob of blue stickum and wadded it on the floor by the wreckage, then stuck a little yellow evidence flag upright, another one on Beckett's sticky desk just for to cheer themselves up a little, and for good measure, they surrounded the area with crime scene tape.

"Ain't nobody gonna step in that," Esposito grinned.

Castle had pushed the heavy fire door open by the time she caught up to him, showing every intention of slamming it behind. But fired doors just aren't made to slam. Everyone in the 12th precinct turned away, and buried themselves in whatever they had been doing before the Hellmouth blew open to release the demons.

On Beckett's confession, Castle froze, holding the door, halfway out into the landing. Overwhelmed, he leaned back against the door and it swung away abruptly, catching him off balance. He stumbled, and Beckett dodged forward to help him catch his balance.

She said, "You okay?"

They spoke quietly, no longer aware of anything but one another.

"No." A little sob escaped him. "But maybe I will be?" He gave her a shaky smile.

She had not let go of him. Her hand went up to cup his jaw. "Maybe _we_ will. Be okay. God, Castle, I hope you can forgive me."

He shook his head in confusion. "Why did you lie to me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ask my therapist." She swung back, into the stairwell, pulling Castle with her. "I think his professional opinion is that I am completely fucked up."

His eyes widened. "Therap..."

She nodded.

"Oh. Therapy's... useful. Although sometimes I kind of like fucked up," he murmured.

"I know you do. You're gonna learn to love it." She cupped a hand at his jaw, and leaned in for a kiss, her eyes pleading for forgiveness despite the lightness of her tone. This was their first real kiss, and in the history of all the great kisses in the world, it made Wesley and Buttercup look like rank amateurs.

Still embracing, he stepped into the stairwell with her, and the heavy door sighed closed on its own. The bullpen exploded into a flurry of activity. Gates sauntered out of her office with a clipboard. "Ok, people, listen up. Place your last bets."

About ten minutes later, Beckett and Castle emerged from the stairwell. They'd checked each other over pretty carefully, but missed the fact that one of her false eyelashes was stuck to his collar. And, for the first time since he cut off his mullet in 1991, his hair was nowhere near perfect. They walked out hand-in-hand, exchanging a look of mixed dread (because there would be ribbing and Gates would likely throw him out) and joy (because they had just had a spectacular makeout session in the stairwell. Do I have to explain everything?)

They threaded their way back through the bullpen, still holding hands. When Beckett saw her relatively clean desk, with the wet papers all blotted and the floor mostly wiped, and the shattered elephant crime scene with the cassette lying in state, and the cheery yellow flags, she looked over at Ryan and Espo and cooed, "Aww, you guys. Thanks."

They waved her off. "Think nothing of it." "'S okay."

Castle said, "Did anyone dust the cassette for prints yet?"

Espo nodded. "Gates had it expedited." He looked almost apologetic. "Beckett... you know. We had her prints on file."

She gripped Castle's hand tightly. He squeezed in return. "My mom's?"

Ryan smiled gently. "Bingo."

Gates came out of her office. "We're having tech find one of those old mini-cassette players. We'll see what's on it."

Beckett bit her lip. "Let's make sure there are plenty of copies made too, and that they're kept safe."

Castle said, "Can you send a sound file through the Cloud so we're sure there's a backup? Sometimes even cops can tamper with evidence."

"Not these cops," said Ryan quietly. Esposito gave him a brief nod.

Gates arched an eyebrow. "Cloud backup is new. Not sure I trust it, but I'll get the protocols confirmed." She cocked her head at Beckett's desk, then held out a hand-written note to the detective. "In the meantime, Detective Beckett, I need you two to go to this address in Tribeca and interview a couple of key witnesses. You have two hours, and when you come back, you'd better have some answers."

Beckett frowned in puzzlement at the scrap of paper, then showed it to Castle, who laughed.

Beckett's face flamed red. "Sir, that's my apartment."

Gates smirked at them. "So it is. Get a room. Get back here as soon as you can." She picked Beckett's eyelash strip off Castle's collar and handed it to the detective.

Castle's mouth dropped open then closed again, his face a mixture of embarrassment and childlike glee. "So it's okay if..."

"We've got a bomber to catch. We need all hands," Gates snapped as if it were obvious. "Even yours."

Beckett didn't need to be told twice. She flew to her desk, snatched up her jacket (which hardly had any coffee on it), and grabbed Castle's hand, hauling him back out toward the elevator. The bullpen didn't burst into applause until they started skipping.

"Knock it off!" Gates bellowed, but she was already closing her office door, the cassette in her hand. She locked it in her safe. Anybody who came for it - or for Detective Beckett - was going to have to pry it from her cold, dead fingers.

•••  
A note to any skeptical guest reviewers who are too brave to break their anonymity: ok, Beckett herself might not wear false eyelashes as a character. But Stana definitely does. Also hair extensions. I'm a makeup artist, so really, if you want to argue that point, you're just not paying attention :-D


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